That chat would come with a smile, and does Jones greet someone any other way? The starter who killed worms with his sinking offerings which induced grounders – it led to the 1976 Cy Young Award – is where he belongs: In Padres duds helping others master that dastardly art of pitching.

“I'm just going to complement what they are trying to achieve,'' said Jones, an Escondido resident. “If there are certain things certain guys are working on, maybe I can enhance that a little bit.''

Jones' title is loose – special instructor – but his message is tight.

“There is always room for improvement,'' he said.

Just like there's always space for Jones. Even if youngsters might not recognize his mug, topped by an impressive Afro, which once graced Sports Illustrated's cover.

Knowing Padres manager Bud Black, Jones' 70s look may resurface.

“I hope Buddy finds that picture,'' the Padres' Trevor Hoffman said, “and blows it up for everyone to see.''

Jones' fastball never exploded a radar gun. He stalled at 85 mph – he was usually some 10 miles slower — and proved there's more to life than throwing hard.

With Jones' tantalizing mix of soft pitches which dove at the plate, his knack for keeping hitters off-balance, his mental toughness that allowed him to rebound from a 22-loss season, he was tougher than those BBQ sandwiches he hawks.

“I understand and know what you have to do when you get your tail kicked,'' Jones said. “You have to learn from it and how it can improve you. You can't let it destroy you. “Instead you work on it in-between starts and be better the next time. That is what kept me going.''

But Jones, 63, never pointed his compass toward Padres camp after his 10-year career ended in 1982.

“I wanted to do it when I was younger,'' Jones said. “But I thought maybe some of the pitching coaches would be afraid that I wanted their job. I wasn't comfortable with that.

“Now I'm to a point where I'm too damn old. I'm not looking for a job and don't want it.''

Jones hasn't lost his gift of teaching. A string of hopefuls still beat a path to Jones' backyard mound for lessons.

An unpolished Barry Zito is among the teenagers graduating with a pitching degree from the University of Jones.

“I think it is awesome he is working with us,'' Hoffman said. “We see so often different organizations with their alumni and stars from the past being around.

“This allows some of the kids that have no clue who Randy Jones is to see him in camp and allow him to share his knowledge.''

Black, a former major-league pitcher, is all-in.

“He's one of the guys, like Trevor, who can lead by example and history,'' Black said. “He can pull aside a young pitcher and tell him what he sees from a position of experience.''

Jones is game, but only if he can display his pant legs like back in his day.

“I don't know about these new uniforms,'' Jones said. “I never wore my pants down around my ankles. I want to pull them up, show my stirrups and go old school.''

Spring class is in session for Padres pitchers. The smart ones will listen to Jones.